Pat'iv'i Fruit
by Eligh
Summary: Jim and Spock accidentally eat an alien aphrodisiac. What happens next takes a bit of getting used to. Kirk/Spock, M for a reason. Don't like, don't read.


**_Title: _**_Pat'iv'i Fruit_

**_Summary: _**_Jim and Spock accidentally eat an alien aphrodisiac. What happens next takes a bit of getting used to. _

**_Rating: _**_M_

**_Warnings: _**_Language, graphic sexing, of the Kirk/Spock variety. Some very mild angst. _

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own these characters. It's all Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures..._

**_A/N: _**_I've had this pairing stuck in my head for freaking_ weeks_, and this story was getting in the way of another chapter fic I'm writing... good for you guys, frustrating for me. Anywhoo, enjoy and whatnot, and I would love love love reviews. Especially creative criticism... I only want to improve :)_

_Also, this is mostly Smutty McSmut Smut. _

* * *

><p>"This is a terrible idea, dammit."<p>

Jim rolled his eyes. "We'll be fine, Bones. The Lalians have an excellent history with the Federation. They've never been anything but friendly."

Leonard looked to Spock for help. "Spock, you agree with me, surely. It doesn't seem fishy to you that they specifically requested only yourself and the Captain?"

"Their request, though unusual, does not worry me. As the Captain stated, their history is peaceful." Spock disagreed, raising his eyebrow when Dr. McCoy's face darkened in frustration.

"Fine, but when they blow you up or eat your entrails or experiment on your brains, don't come running to me," he said huffily, spinning and leaving Jim and Spock alone with the Ensign manning the transporter.

"Right, so there's that…" Jim said, and turned to Spock, his usual smile growing more strained. A year into their mission, and the two men were able to work cohesively together, but animosity still lingered. They spoke to one another as little as possible, and Jim had long ago decided that the 'great friendship' Spock Prime had spoken of just wasn't in the cards this time around.

Theirs was a purely professional relationship, and Jim couldn't see—nor did he want—it being anything more.

He wordlessly stepped onto the transport pad, and Spock followed suit. With a gesture to the Ensign letting him know they were ready, the man's fingers flew, and the command team of the Enterprise dissolved into molecules.

With the gentle thrum that accompanied transportation, Jim and Spock rematerialized on the planet's surface. They were greeted by a serious-looking Lalian male, who bowed to them and requested they follow him.

They did, and to Jim's discomfort, they headed into the cavern-like structure they used as their city. Previously, all negotiations with this race had been in the open, purely for the representatives of the Federation's comfort.

The Lalians were an insect-like culture, and tunneled their habitations into the walls of cliffs. They were significantly shorter than humans, and so Jim and Spock found themselves crouching slightly as they were led through a maze of tunnels. Jim found himself being reminded of termite tunnels, and tried to force the image from his mind. A glance at Spock's face showed that he wasn't particularly enjoying himself either—evident by the slight tensing in his mouth.

Finally, they emerged in a larger cavern, and Jim and Spock were able to straighten up. Their guide bowed again and left, leaving the two men alone.

A minute or two later, a door in the side of the cavern opened and the dignitary that had contacted the Enterprise emerged, followed closely by five large guards. Jim glanced at Spock—Lord, he hoped Bones wasn't right—and then stepped forward, greeting the Ambassador.

"L'iatian Cha, I am pleased you requested the presence of my First officer and myself. How may we serve the Lalian people?"

"We wished to participate in negotiations with the Federation regarding the usage of our deposits of Syrlium D," the Ambassador squeaked, and both Jim and Spock relaxed.

"We would be honored to negotiate with you, Cha." Spock responded, using the man's formal title. The Ambassador buzzed happily, and asked them to follow him—a feast had been prepared for their pleasure, he told them. They bowed to him and followed, again needing to bend over to navigate the low ceilings.

When they emerged into the dining hall, they were seated in positions of honor, and after a pleasant meal, most of the attendees of the banquet left, leaving only Jim, Spock, and half a dozen dignitaries to discuss terms of an agreement.

An hour or so into the proceedings, Jim noticed Spock shift uncomfortably. While he still was being perfectly polite and professional (ever the epitome of Vulcan decorum) his skin was beginning to pale even more than usual, and with shock, Jim noticed a slight green flush spreading on his First's cheeks.

With a start, Jim realized that he too, was having an odd physical reaction to something… his heartbeat felt elevated, and his skin seemed hypersensitive. He blinked, and wriggled slightly in his seat, not noticing that the Lalian delegates were watching the officers.

Suddenly, Jim and Spock both doubled over in pain—it was shooting through every nerve of their bodies, making it unable to think. Jim shot a confused look at the delegates, who seemed shocked. "What…?" Jim forced out, before yet another stab of pain rattled his body.

He vaguely realized that Spock had pulled out his communicator, and was trying to reach the Enterprise. But he was having little luck—they were deep within a mountain, meaning transportation was impossible, and he was having trouble getting words out through the stabs of pain.

The Lalians were running around in what looked like a panic. Jim fuzzily thought that they were either very good actors, or they really had no idea what they had done to cause his and Spock's problems.

Through the haze, he realized one of them was pulling on his arm, and then he was crashing into Spock. The two collapsed in a tangle of limbs, and for some reason, the pain lessened—at least enough that coherent thought was possible.

Jim sat up, losing contact with Spock, and the pain immediately redoubled. He gasped, and wrapped his arms around Spock's head, catching a flash of mingled annoyance and relief before Spock hastily erected mental shields against emotional transference. Again, the pain faded.

"What's going on?" Jim demanded angrily, his fury made somewhat impotent by the fact that he was practically sitting in his First's lap on the ground.

L'iatian stepped forward, wringing four of his six pinchers in nervousness. "We apologize. We believe… some of our food… has negatively affected your internal systems."

"How?" Spock asked calmly, even as another tremor shot through the two of them and he tightened his hold on Jim's waist.

"Ah. The pat'iv'i fruit, that we opened the banquet with, was once seen as an aphrodisiac for our people. However, it no longer produces any real effects in our physiology. Historically, it was said that ingesting the fruit forced partners to come into physical contact with one another, helping the mating process. But it is slightly more than a fable… it no longer has any effect on us…" he looked miserable.

"We had no idea it would produce such a reaction with you. Apparently we have merely become immune to its effects."

"How do we stop it?" Jim grated out, ignoring the implication that he and Spock were supposed to be mating partners.

L'iatian's face crumpled even further. "Historically speaking, and there is no reversal. It supposedly fades from your system over a course of several months."

"Why is there pain? Can we do anything about it?" Jim asked after a moment of silence, in which he and Spock both undoubtedly considered what it would be like to be attached to one another for several months.

"The pain was supposed to motivate the couple to remain together. Skin on skin contact lessens it…" L'iatian grimaced slightly at their facial expressions, and continued. "Sexual intercourse provides a reprieve from it for a short time. It was originally used when chosen couples proved incompatible to one another. Our ancestors used to practice arranged marriages, and occasionally the chosen couples would not desire the other…" he finished miserably.

"Right." Jim forced out. "I am sure you understand that we need to return immediately to our ship and consult our doctor. We will be unable to continue negotiations at this time…" The Lalians all nodded quickly, and helped the men to their feet.

There was another second of shooting pain when they rose, but Spock quickly grabbed Jim's hands and rested their foreheads together. "My apologies, Captain," he murmured. "But given the circumstances…" Jim nodded, careful not to lose any skin contact.

Again they were led through cramped halls, made even more awkward by their necessary contact, and eventually made it to the exit of the cliffs and were able to be beamed back on board—this time beaming directly to the medical bay.

They were greeted by an irate Dr. McCoy. "What'd I tell ya, ya idiots?" He quickly ran a scanner over them, and then without warning, pushed them apart. Both Jim and Spock cried out and collapsed, writhing in agony.

"Shit," McCoy breathed, and pushed them back together, where they lay clasped in one another's arms, trying to catch their breath.

"Doctor," Spock said once he had successfully controlled most of the pain, "please allow me to have a word with the Captain." Leonard waved his hand and stepped into his office.

Spock looked at Jim, both occasionally twitching as another stab rolled though their system. "The pain is worsening and our contact is providing less relief," Spock stated. Jim nodded, not liking where this was going.

Spock closed his eyes, unable to contain his displeasure at the next statement. "I suggest we engage in… copulation… in order to achieve the reprieve the Lalians suggested was possible. Perhaps the doctor can provide an antidote in the resulting time."

"I don't want to fuck you, Spock."

"Nor I you. However, I can see no other option. I would gladly entertain another solution." They were both silent for a moment, as they tried to think of something else.

"I wonder if it's actual sex, or just, y'know. Release," Jim finally said.

"I would appreciate a less invasive experiment as our first attempt, Captain."

After another minute of hushed discussion, they reluctantly told Dr. McCoy that they planned to try for a reprieve of their situation. He looked disgusted, but told them to go to one of the MedBay's private rooms, so he could work on them as soon as they were done.

Once inside, they quickly stripped, and momentarily relaxed when added skin contact lessened the pain. However, it did not completely go away, and after a few minutes of non-action, it began to build again.

"God this is awkward…" Jim said to himself, and then tensed as Spock took a deep breath and snaked his hand to pull lightly on Jim's member. The pain immediately vanished, and they stopped, each breathing in relief for perhaps five seconds, at which point it returned, worse than ever.

Spock growled in frustration, all thoughts of emotional control gone. He quickly reached for Jim again, and efficiently stroked him to full hardness. Jim leaned back against the wall, relieved that he was, for the moment, pain free, and giving in slightly unwillingly to the pleasure of someone other than himself touching him.

After several minutes of silence, during which Spock carefully worked Jim's cock, and Jim's breathing grew more and more ragged, Jim let out a soft moan and released into Spock's hand. Spock withdrew, his face blank, and moved to clean his hand. They waited, separate, for several seconds, and had just enough time to think that maybe it worked when they were again wracked with mind-numbing pain.

"Fuck!" Jim breathed, as he pulled Spock close again. The pain retreated. "Fine, fuck me then." Spock's eyes widened.

"Captain…"

"Just do it, Spock! Jesus, it's an order, ok?" Reluctantly, Spock lifted Jim to the bed and rummaged in the medical cabinets for lube, not breaking their contact. He found it, and again hesitated for a split second before he squeezed some on both his hand and Jim's entrance.

"I am sorry, Captain. I feel that I am violating you…" he said softly as he slid a finger in and began moving it back and forth.

"Just get it over with, Mr. Spock." Spock nodded in assent, and added another finger, stretching Jim slightly before adding a third. With his other hand, he began to stroke himself, firming the erection that was growing from the erotic contact he was already having with Jim.

"That's good, c'mon." Jim said after a moment more of this. Spock let out a breath that may have been a sigh, and climbed onto the bed himself, only pausing for half a second before he thrust into Jim in one long smooth movement.

Jim moaned in pleasure and his own dick began to harden again. It really had been far too long since he'd last had sex if he was getting off on getting fucked by Spock. Suddenly, he realized that some of Spock's carefully constructed mental barriers were slipping. Jim received a gentle wash of pleasure, spiked with more animalistic lust.

Spock groaned slightly above him, and that broke Jim's self-imposed vow of silence. He made a split-second decision—if they _had_ to do this, then he could be allowed to enjoy it. So, he groaned in response, and pushed his hips further back into Spock's thrusts, angling himself so Spock could more easily hit his prostrate.

"Oh, god, Spock…" he breathed, and he felt Spock slide his hand along his back, massaging in gentle circles. Then, that hand circled down to his hip and grasped Jim's leaking member, stroking in time with the thrusts.

"This… is pleasing… Jim…" Spock said softly, before Jim groaned and released, clenching himself around his First officer. Spock was taken by surprise and the added tightness brought him to completion as well. They slowly pulled apart, waiting for the pain to return, but this time it didn't.

"Well, it worked," Jim said finally, getting up and finding wipes to clean themselves. "Let's tell Bones."

('')

Eight hours and innumerable tests later, Jim felt the already-familiar pooling of pain starting in his stomach. He reached out from his bed in the MedBay toward where Spock was lying, the next bed over. The joined hands, and the pain receded.

Leonard noticed, and made a quick note on his padd. "Pain coming back?"

"Yes. We have experienced seven hours, fifty-seven minutes of relief," Spock responded.

Jim got up and moved to sit next to Spock, who shifted slightly to make room. He looked at Leonard. "I want to contact the Lalians before we're… overcome… again. See if they have any more insight. Can you clear us to go back to my quarters?"

Dr. McCoy shrugged. "Sure. I can't do anything about it, I can't even separate the chemical. I don't think it's life threatening… but I'm not gonna clear you for duty until we get a better timetable."

Jim sighed. "I figured. C'mon, Spock, let's not dirty another of Bones' rooms."

Spock nodded in silent agreement, and the two stood to leave. Before they exited the sickbay, Spock disentangled his hand, and when Jim shot him a look, Spock raised an eyebrow.

"It would be preferable to not act as though anything has changed regarding our relationship. If they crew saw us… touching… rumors would undoubtedly surface." Jim nodded, and then grimaced as a burst of pain flared in his head.

"Well, let's hurry, then."

They quickly headed for Jim's quarters, and as soon as the door had closed behind them, they lurched toward one another, Jim grabbing Spock's face with his hands and resting their foreheads together. They breathed heavily for a moment as the pain retreated, and then withdrew, careful to keep at least their hands in contact.

Jim sat down at his computer, and Spock settled next to him, sliding his hand under Jim's shirt to the small of his back. Jim closed his eyes for a moment at the thrum of pleasure he felt at this touch, and then shook his head. He keyed in the comm code L'iatian had given them, and after a moment, the man's concerned orange face swum into focus.

"Captain, Commander. I was about to message you. Are things…?" he trailed off, extremely uncomfortable.

"We were able to… negate the effects for a short time," Spock responded flatly. L'iatian flushed, realizing what they must have done to 'negate the effects,' as Spock had said, and stammered slightly in his response.

"W-we've been researching. Apparently the symptoms last for 213 of our days. I believe this time equates to ninety of your days. After the allotted time has elapsed, you will no longer feel any effects of the fruit. Additionally, it is more potent toward the beginning, leveling off at around ten of your days. At this point, it should become easier to separate yourselves, although the pain will return if you do not engage in… activities."

Jim sighed. At least it would get a little easier, he supposed. "Thank you, Cha. We appreciate your research. I would also like to inform you that as this was accidental, these circumstances will in no way negatively affect our negotiation process, although it may be easier if Mr. Spock and myself appoint others to continue the talks." A particularly sharp pain caused Spock to pull Jim closer, and Jim closed his eyes to pull himself together.

When he refocused on the Lalian dignitary, the orange man was nodding in understanding. "We shall await messages from Starfleet, and again apologize. On behalf of the Lalian people, we wish we could provide further help."

Jim smiled tightly. "Thank you. Now, if you will excuse us…" L'iatian nodded again, and the screen went black.

"C'mere," Jim muttered, standing up and pulling his shirts over his head. Spock did the same, and they relaxed into each other's arms, the pain only vaguely circling in the back of their awareness.

"I guess there's worse reactions to be had from alien fruit…" Jim said as he pulled Spock toward the bed. "And we only have to deal with this for three months. Then we can get back to regular life. And he said it gets easier after a few days, maybe that means longer times in between."

"Indeed," Spock responded, unbuttoning Jim's pants, then his own, and falling with the other man down onto the bed. They rubbed gently against one another for a moment, relishing both the lack of pain and the feeling of soft skin underneath their fingers.

"You know, you're letting some of your emotions bleed through," Jim said as he nuzzled into Spock's neck.

"It is difficult to maintain the control necessary to fully suppress all emotions while engaging in coitus."

"Is that Vulcan for 'you make me hot'?"

Spock made an amused noise in the back of his throat. "Perhaps."

Jim turned to look at him. Desire was mixing with discomfort in Spock's brown eyes, and Jim suddenly realized that Spock really was beautiful. Without thinking, he reached up and kissed Spock firmly on the lips, and Spock pulled back, surprised.

"Can't have sex without some foreplay, Spock," Jim said by way of explanation.

"Perhaps…" Spock ventured again, but after a beat, he leaned down and captured Jim's lips.

After several minutes of kissing (which grew steadily more and more intense) Jim gasped, "Take me again, Spock, I'm still loose from before…" Spock nodded in assent, and pulled Jim's legs over his shoulders, lining himself up.

Jim gasped as he felt Spock enter him for the second time today, the liberal precome dribbling out of Spock's cock easing the way. Spock moved slowly until he was fully sheathed, and then leaned down and continued to kiss his captain.

Jim twined his fingers in Spock's inky black hair and moaned into the kiss—a purely pornographic noise that made Spock's eyebrow twitch. But Spock responded, pulling out and thrusting back in repeatedly, making Jim gasp and arch at his touch.

Spock found himself captivated by Jim's movements, and allowed the lust he felt to flow through his skin to Jim. This added sensation pushed the captain over the edge, and Spock followed him close after.

After allowing himself a few heartbeats to collect his breath, Spock pulled out and rolled off Jim, located a towel to clean themselves, and then sat to pull his pants back on. Jim watched him impassively for a moment.

"We should talk about what this is going to do to our relationship, Spock."

"There is no reason our professional relationship should change in regards to our affliction."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Sure. Cause fucking several times a day, and needing to touch each other more than that, not even being able to stay away from one another for extended periods of time—yea. That changes nothing."

"Sarcasm, Captain, is illogical."

"You're infuriating."

"You are childish."

"Goddammit, Spock."

Spock rubbed his hand across his face. "I require cleansing rituals, meditation, and sustenance. I will return to my quarters, and shall see you in approximately eight hours. Until then, Captain." He stood up walked briskly out, not looking back.

Jim watched him go, anger etched on his face. This was going to be a very long three months.

('')

Eight and a half hours later, Jim's door chimed. He went to answer it, but doubled over in pain before he could reach the keypad. Fucking Spock, pushing it to the last minute… finally able to answer the door, he felt a slight rush of vindictive pleasure when he saw Spock, his body leaning heavily against the doorframe, his breathing harsh.

"Captain, may I enter…"

Jim grunted in response and pulled Spock inside. "I'm taking you this time. I'm sore." With no further warning, he bent Spock over his desk and pulled off his First's pants. He had used part of the last eight hours to find some lube, and so he quickly prepared Spock, who appeared to be taking stabilizing breaths underneath him.

Sex this time was violent and quick, but when he collapsed over Spock's back, both had come to completion. Jim pulled his pants back up, but stopped short when Spock made no movement to clean himself up.

"Spock? You… ok?"

Spock blinked, coming back to himself. "That was… my first time being penetrated. I admit to disconcertion."

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry Spock… I didn't realize…" he pulled the other man up. "I really didn't think… fuck are you ok?" Spock nodded slightly, and Jim found a towel, cleaning up the other man when he made no move to take it.

Finally, Spock pulled his pants up, and went to sit on Jim's couch, cringing slightly. Jim sat next to him, and hesitantly placed his hand on Spock's knee. "I'm sorry. I was angry with you about… earlier. I won't be so rough again, I promise. I don't want to hurt you."

Spock looked at him, his brown eyes unreadable. "My physical well-being is acceptable, Captain." He fell silent for a moment, and then dropped his gaze. "I apologize for my actions and words earlier. You are correct—our relationship will change with this addition of physicality between us."

"Well, we have to spend time together. Maybe we can use this as an opportunity to get to know one another a little better? We can, I duno, talk and hold hands? Keep the pain at bay as long as possible…"

Spock nodded. "I will keep track of the specific amounts of time our interactions allow us to be apart. When we can remain pain-free for the extent of one shift, I believe Dr. McCoy will clear us for duty. Until then, we should remain near each other."

"What was the exact time this go-round?"

"Seven hours, fifty-nine minutes."

"Two whole extra minutes! It's getting better already…" The corners of Spock's mouth twitched involuntarily, and Jim grinned in response.

"You play chess, right, Mr. Spock? Let's have a game. We can talk."

('')

Ten days after they were infected, Jim and Spock were able to go twelve hours without the pain becoming unbearable. The Lalians reluctantly confirmed that this would likely be the best case scenario until the toxin was completely out of their systems.

Leonard cleared them for active duty, and life returned mostly to normal, with the exception of twice-daily steamy sessions in one or the other's quarters. Still, Jim and Spock spent much of their free time together—simply holding hands was enough to ward off the otherwise almost constant thud of pain.

At first, they played the odd game of chess, discussed ship policies, and spoke of mutual acquaintances. As the weeks went by, however, they became more comfortable with one another, and began talking about their personal lives, sharing desires, and even joking.

The sex changed along with their relationship. At first, it was purely for seeking release, but now… they began to take their time, kissing more often, teasing the other, putting more emphasis into bringing the other to previously unexplored heights of pleasure.

Two months in, Jim surprised Spock. When the customary pain became uncomfortable, he gently led his First to the bed, stripping him as they went. Spock turned over (it was his turn to bottom) but Jim shook his head, instead kissing down his chest and taking Spock in his mouth.

Spock almost gasped in surprise—the wet heat of Jim's mouth was extremely unexpected, and not at all unwanted. "Jim, this is…" The Captain hummed in response, expertly flicking his tongue over Spock's tip, then moving to take all of him in his mouth and swallowing around the length. Spock arched up, his fingers blindly reaching out for Jim—more than anything, he wanted to meld…

But he stopped, fuzzily reminding himself that Jim was a temporary partner, not someone to meld with, never someone to bond with…

But when Jim took him later, it was the most passionate encounter Spock had ever engaged in, and Jim's whispers of "God, Spock, yes, you're mine, only mine…" made Spock's head reel. That night, they fell asleep together, and when Spock awoke, Jim was curled around him, a small smile on his face, traces of happiness and contentment seeping through their points of contact.

('')

It was the last day that, according to Spock's calculations, they should be affected by the chemicals in the pat'iv'i fruit, and Jim was lying on his back, moaning softly as Spock lazily thrust into him. They were off today, and had taken the opportunity to shag themselves senseless whenever even the slightest twinge of pain had reared its head. They were on time number seven, right now—both men were sweaty and sticky, breathless and in ecstasy.

"God yes, Spock, right there…"

Spock angled his hips appropriately to stroke Jim's prostrate more fully, and let his eyes close in pleasure. He rubbed gently along Jim's length, reveling in the hothard feel of Jim underneath his sensitive fingers. He abandoned Standard and slipped into Vulcan, speaking words he knew Jim didn't understand, complimenting the beautiful body writhing underneath him, letting his emotions of satisfaction and pleasure wash over Jim.

They weren't close yet—Spock was purposefully going slow to draw this out. They were in no hurry.

"Spock?" Jim sounded more focused than Spock thought he should be at the moment…

"Yes, Jim?" he asked, pausing mid-thrust.

"First, don't stop," Spock twitched his lips up at this, and resumed his movements. "Second," Jim continued, voice suddenly almost shy, "will you… um. Meld with me?"

Spock blinked in surprise, and his hips stilled again. "I… am unsure that would be an appropriate course of action." He started thrusting again, going harder, wanting now to finish. He could feel Jim's confusion and mild hurt by his statement, and hastily erected barriers between them—something he hadn't done in over a month.

"Stop it, Spock." Jim's voice was bordering on steely, and Spock pulled out and turned over, sitting next to Jim on the bed. Jim raised himself up on his elbows and looked over at Spock, his confusion now evident on his face.

"Captain, we have, at most, a few more hours of… this affliction. After that, I assumed you would no longer desire to share my bed. Performing a meld would… could… complicate matters further."

Jim looked down, feeling lost. "You still consider this an affliction," he finally said, flatly.

Spock hesitated. "Should I consider it anything else?"

"No, of course not. A temporary issue that we've just about resolved, right?" Spock nodded. "Well then, Mr. Spock, by your calculations, will we be fine until the last of it is out of our system?"

Spock turned to Jim, wanting to say something to break the icy tone he heard in his Captain's voice, but when he saw the hard look on Jim's face, he faltered. "We may experience mild discomfort, but it is unlikely the pain will again become unbearable."

Jim nodded, and rolled off the bed, gathering up his pants and undershirt. "Very good, Mr. Spock. I'll see you tomorrow for Alpha shift." He quickly dressed and left Spock's quarters, leaving the Vulcan staring into space, wondering at how the tightness in his chest didn't feel like the usual pain they'd experienced over the past three months.

('')

Jim realized with a start that he'd once again been staring at Spock. His First was sitting calmly at the science station, occasionally making notes or typing something into the readout, and those actions in no way warranted the images that were parading through Jim's mind.

_Spock, slammed up against the wall of the shower, his cheeks flushed and mouth open with desire…_

_That same mouth wrapped around Jim's cock, Spock's lips flushed a deep green as he slowly bobbed his head up and down…_

_His head thrown back in ecstasy, hitting the headboard with a loud clunk that both men had ignored as Jim had thrust his tongue inside Spock…_

"Dammit," Jim said to himself. It had been two weeks. Two weeks since he'd left Spock forlornly on the end of his bed, two weeks since the building pain had suddenly turned off, like a switch being flipped, two weeks since he'd asked Spock to meld with him and felt like he was being ripped apart when Spock refused.

They'd barely spoken since. Yesterday, Jim had been on the verge of asking Spock for a game of chess, but had chickened out. He mentally berated himself: Captain James T. Kirk, afraid to be alone with an ex. Not even really an ex… someone he'd been forced together with.

Jim sighed, and slouched in his chair, not noticing that as soon as his eyes had left Spock, the Vulcan's had flicked over to watch him instead. Spock watched Jim rub his temples, and made up his mind.

"Captain, may I have a word with you?" Jim looked up in surprise, and raised his eyebrows when he realized who had spoken to him.

"Sure, Mr. Spock. Sulu, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Captain."

Spock and Jim walked in silence to the turbolift, and stepped inside. "Where to, Mr. Spock?"

"Perhaps one of our quarters would be appropriate."

Jim shrugged. "Deck Five." They remained in silence the rest of the way. Once the lift arrived, Jim led the way to his quarters, keyed in the entry code, and gestured Spock inside.

"What did you want to talk about, Commander? Is something wrong?"

Spock hesitated. "Yes, Captain," he said slowly. "I feel that the continued distance between us is causing emotional instability on my part."

Jim cocked his head. "What does that mean, Commander? You don't want to ask for a transfer, do you? Because that'd be terrible…"

"On the contrary, I desire… that we return… at least partially… to the relationship we have enjoyed over the past three months. I have discovered that I… miss your presence. Jim."

Jim reached out and tentatively took his hand, smiling when Spock didn't pull away. "I thought you said it was an affliction."

"That was a poor choice of words. Your request to meld took me by surprise, and I… did not want to admit to my feelings for you." He glanced up at Jim's piercing blue eyes—the other man was studying him closely. "I have since meditated upon this topic, and felt it would be best to admit these thoughts to you."

Without another word, Jim pulled Spock to him and kissed him deeply, his tongue tracing patterns in Spock's mouth and his fingers tracing patterns on Spock's hands. When they broke apart, long minutes later, he smiled into Spock's neck.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why'd you decide the middle of our shift was the best time to tell me?"

"You had been staring at me for seventy-three of the two hundred nineteen minutes we were on the bridge. I found I could think of nothing else."

Jim laughed. "We need to get back to the bridge. Will you have dinner with me tonight? I've missed you a lot, too." He kissed Spock again, lightly this time, and was rewarded by the slight upturn of the Vulcan's lips.

('')

That night, dinner was excellent—Spock was practically boisterous (he made two jokes—_two!_) and Jim couldn't stop grinning. In fact, he hadn't stopped grinning from the time he and Spock had spoken in his quarters—by the end of the day, the entire bridge crew was asking him if he felt all right.

After dinner, Jim suggested chess, but Spock shook his head, instead pulling Jim to the bedroom.

"Mmm, Spock's horny…" Jim started to laugh, but was silenced when Spock shot him a Look, his dark eyes dilated and needful. Jim's mouth abruptly started watering, and heat pooled in his groin as his dick sprung to life.

"Want you, Spock, so bad… want to touch you everywhere…" Jim murmured, yanking Spock's clothes off even as Spock did the same to him.

"Yes, Jim. Touch and be touched…" Spock returned, leading Jim to the bed and collapsing them on it. Jim wound up underneath Spock, their already straining erections rubbing deliciously against one another.

Jim moaned and slid his thigh between Spock's, awarding them better friction. He pulled Spock's head into a kiss, his tongue effortlessly sliding in Spock's mouth. Spock's hands slid along Jim's sides, one settling at the back of his neck, disallowing separation from their kiss, one holding tight to Jim's hip, grinding them even closer.

Jim ran one of his hands along Spock's spine, savoring the hard press of the other man's body, the sharp angles, the radiating heat. Spock dropped his shields, and lust, desire, thrill, and joy seeped through into Jim's mind.

"Oh, Spock, you're beautiful," Jim moaned. "I want everything about you…"

Spock sighed into Jim's mouth, and Jim reached up, his fingers tracing the shell of Spock's ear, running through his hair, memorizing every angle of his face.

"May I meld with you?" came Spock's almost whispered words.

"God, yes."

Spock's fingers slid into place on Jim's temple, forehead and cheekbone, and the whispered words of "My mind to your mind," transformed seamlessly into _/my thoughts to your thoughts/_.

Jim gasped as everything that was Spock washed over him, a tide breaking on, in, around his consciousness. He was aware that Spock gasped too, and wondered if the Vulcan's experience was similar to his. Even as he wondered this, Spock's mind told him it was, and Jim lost himself to wonder.

He felt his hands on Spock, and felt Spock feeling him, and the overwhelming everything that was both of them being joined to the other exploded in his mind, and he came, crying out Spock's name, leaving him shuddering and breathless. His world was white with pleasure, and he couldn't be happier.

As he came down, he realized Spock's hand was still lightly resting on his face, but their connection wasn't as strong. He turned to Spock, trying send images of his perfect happiness to the other man, and Spock smiled at him.

"I did not wish to bond at this point, Jim. If we choose that, I would prefer to hold the traditional ceremony."

"Yea, that's fine. When could we have a ceremony?"

Spock raised his eyebrow. "That is your desire?"

"Yea. We'd be together forever, right? That's what I want, more than anything."

Spock's eyes crinkled and his mouth turned up more noticeably than Jim had ever seen it go. "That is my desire as well."

"Alright then. We'll request a detour to New Vulcan in the morning." He tucked his head into Spock's shoulder. "I love you. I'm sorry it took so long to say it."

Spock pulled his chin up until their eyes could meet. "I love you, as well."

Jim hummed happily, and the two drifted into a contented sleep.


End file.
